


Those Sad Eyes

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Feels, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt Merlin, Magic Reveal, Sadness, bbc merlin - Freeform, merthur if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: Arthur saw those sad eyes sometimes. They didn't look right on Merlin's cheerful face, and he hated them.





	Those Sad Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! So, here's another Merlin little fic thing. It's kind of sad, I guess. Hope you guys like it!  
> (BBC OWNS THEM)  
> I'd love if you guys would leave comments about it and what I should write next. Thanks! Love ya.

Those sad eyes.

Arthur saw them sometimes. Merlin was a terrible liar, but he usually was pretty swell at keeping his emotions in check, the prince had noticed. The servant’s ability to mask his true feelings had been a good thing when he was first put into Arthur’s employment, but, as the two grew into more than just a servant and his master, it ate away at the young monarch. He wouldn’t dare say they were friends, because Uther said that it was ridiculous to befriend those lower than you, but more than just… acquaintances.

He thought, at least, Merlin could trust him with certain things. Their relationship went deeper than normal servant/master relations, and therefore Arthur trusted the idiot with many items, whether it be war tactics or the latest knight gossip. And Merlin seemed to return such trust. He would tell him about his childhood, traumatic though it was, and the differences between life in Ealdor and life in Camelot. He would voice his opinions on certain laws, speak against the actions of certain knights, and give criticism on documents and council decisions. Arthur knew if he needed a sure, steady constant, Merlin could be it.

But then there would be times when those sad eyes emerged, and Arthur knew he was hiding something. The eyes didn’t look right on the oaf’s face. Merlin’s smile always made the prince feel better. That grin could light up a room, and their witty banter had become a reliable source of amusement and surety. But those eyes, when they flashed, it was as if a whole new person was standing before him. As if this boy understood so much pain and sorrow, had seen things he never should have to.

Arthur trusted Merlin, and he knew Merlin returned such affection, but he didn’t know everything. And those sad eyes proved it.

* * *

 

The first time that Arthur really saw the sad eyes, it was after Lancelot left. Arthur had liked the man, truly, and he had seen the way he had gotten along with his manservant. Lancelot was brave, truehearted, and had the makings of a great knight. If he had actually been one. While Arthur didn’t necessarily agree with the laws pertaining to noble blood, it stood nonetheless, and he was angered that any man should try and bypass it. But, he had admired his determination and strength. If he had been king… well, it didn’t matter.

But Merlin, Merlin watched Lancelot’s horse disappear as if he was a soldier riding out to battle with no hope of returning. Arthur was annoyed at the forlorn expression on his servant’s face, for it looked ever so strange there, settling in his usually ever so happy eyes. It was irritating, how wrong it looked there.

When Arthur turned to walk back to the keep, he was surprised when Merlin was not on his heels, and only realized such when he was halfway to the drawbridge. “Merlin!”

The servant simply swallowed and pivoted, and Arthur’s smirk fell. The look in the man’s eyes, the yearning. For a second the prince thought it might have been love, the kind that young lads have on little girls, but another glance proved it more than that. It was as if Merlin was missing something, and Lancelot had helped give it to him. And now he was gone again. “Sire?”

Arthur scowled at the term. “Come on, you fool. And wipe that long look off your face before I make you muck out the stables again!” To the prince’s dismay, that did not earn him a smile.

Instead, Merlin glanced back over his shoulder, to where Lancelot had disappeared into the trees.

The prince rolled his eyes and stalked back to the man. “What has you in such a foul mood? Lancelot didn’t steal your puppy, did he?”

That, at least, got him a quiet scoff. “No. But, it was nice…”

Arthur glanced at Merlin, the soft tone so foreign to him. “What was?”

“Being understood.” He replied. Then, he whirled around and shook his head. “Now, come on, you Prat. I don’t want to muck the stables again.”

The prince tried not to be angry. Lancelot had known Merlin for perhaps a week, yet was still able to understand a part of the servant that Arthur didn’t.

* * *

 

The eyes haunted the prince, but what might have been worse was how quickly Merlin could cover them up as if they had never happened. As if his feelings were always light, happy, serene. It annoyed him to no end how the eyes grew steadily, always flashing when he least expected it, but only for a moment, before the smile was there again and Arthur couldn’t ask the reason.

“I am indebted to you, Merlin. I had become confused. It is once again clear to me that those who practice magic are evil and dangerous. And that it thanks to you.” The prince turned to look at his servant, proud of his loyalty and ready to return the grin no-doubt waiting for him.

the grin wasn’t there at first. It was those sad eyes again.

Merlin looked down for a small second, and if Arthur had looked closer he might have been able to see tears in those blue irises. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only a small breath escaped, and then he looked up again. The grin was wavering ever so slightly when it resurfaced, and Arthur hated it. Annoyed that something was wrong and he didn’t know. Annoyed that Merlin was distressed and he couldn’t understand.

There had been a victory! Magic had once again been defeated and thwarted in the halls of Camelot. Why were those eyes so sad. Merlin swallowed. “Glad I could help.”

Arthur nodded and turned, too quick to see the way that Merlin’s face fell.

* * *

 

When the Great Dragon had been killed, Arthur saw the eyes again. It was worse this time, however. It wasn’t just his eyes, the prince noticed. It was all of Merlin. His shoulders drooped as if he was carrying a large weight on his back. He was eerily quiet, and his gaze was downcast or distant, and Arthur would be a fool if he didn’t see the redness under those blue eyes. Merlin looked like he had lost something very, very dear to him and there was no way to get it back.

“Merlin?” he asked abruptly, while his servant was preparing him for the feast to celebrate their victory.

“Hmm?” those eyes looked up at him with their fake happiness, and Arthur frowned.

“Is your mother alright?”

Merlin’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“Your mother, Merlin.” The prince threw in an exaggerated eyeroll. “Is she well?”

“I-I believe so.” The dark-haired man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Last I spoke to her she was fine.”

“Then why are you acting like someone killed your dog?”

Merlin’s suspicion fell to guarded sorrow. “It’s nothing.”

He looked back at the buttons on Arthur’s vest. “Merlin, I won’t have you darkening my chambers with your frowns. It’s not normal.” The prince snapped. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

The servant’s eyes turned distant, and he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just tired, Arthur. The last few days have been a bit exhausting. Let me get some sleep and I’ll be back to my normal self.”

Arthur scowled. “Merlin-,”

But the moment that Merlin met his gaze, he knew the subject was lost. So, it was dropped, and as Arthur walked to the feast that night, his servant trailing behind him, he cursed whoever had hurt Merlin. Because those sad eyes did not look right on his face, and it was inconsiderate of them to plague Arthur.

* * *

 

When Morgana was healed of her fall down the stairs, he saw the eyes again, and Arthur decided that he wasn’t just annoyed with the look. He really didn’t like it. Merlin’s gaze was so torn that it was distracting Arthur.

“Cheer up, will you. You look so sad, you might have pushed Morgana down the stairs.”

That, in an its essence, did nothing to cheer the servant up. In fact, it may have made it worse.

“It was a joke, Merlin, no need to mope about.”

The prince tried to make amends as best he could, but the brokenness in Merlin’s eyes remained until he was dismissed for the evening. Arthur frowned deeply at the closed door that his servant had just disappeared behind. He did not like it. Not a bit.

The sad eyes became a haunting constant over the years that the two knew one another. And no matter how he tried, Arthur could never understand them. He was king, a powerful, strong monarch who loved his people and protected them. But even with all his strength and vigor, whatever tormented his servant was a monster that the young king could never defeat.

* * *

 

Merlin was a wonderful liar, he found out.

Magic, sorcery, a not-so-dead-dragon and a bunch of horse dung about some stupid destiny. And Arthur was furious. Furious not that Merlin was a _sorcerer_ , that made altogether too much sense, but furious that Merlin had never trusted Arthur like Arthur had trusted him. Never trusted him enough to tell him, spill the secrets that were hurting him. Never trusted him enough to explain that magic wasn’t evil, that Merlin was different, that all the people _I’ve had to hurt was to protect you Arthur, and that’s all I’ve ever done._

It infuriated him that those eyes remained. That the sadness was no longer sadness. Over the years it had grown beyond simply sorrow or grief. The way that Merlin stared at him with those eyes, it was as if Merlin’s entire world was shattering around him, and it was all his fault.

Arthur decided he didn’t just dislike those eyes. He _hated_ them. He _hated_ how so many people had hurt his Merlin. He _hated_ how Merlin had lost so many people. He hated how long Merlin had been hurting, how many times he had been dying and no one did anything to help. He **_hated_** it.

“Why did you never tell me?” Arthur seethed, hands fisting at his sides.

“You would have killed me!” The warlock pleaded from behind, no doubt waving his arms like a lunatic, trying to get his point across.

“I wouldn’t have!” the mere _thought_ of intentionally hurting Merlin caused him to feel nauseas, and worse that Merlin thought he would – that he could bring himself to hurt him. Not Merlin.

“I didn’t know that!” And suddenly Merlin was in front of him. “Arthur, for all of your talk of the evil of sorcery, that the people who practiced it were evil and dangerous and cold-hearted, what did you expect me to do? Come out and tell you and be called a monster? Sent to the chopper’s block or the gallows? Your father-,”

“I wouldn’t have let him kill you!” Arthur shouted, anger radiating off his being.

“Why not?” Merlin snapped. “You believed him when he said such things! Why would you not want to kill a wicked sorcerer?”

“You are not _wicked_ , Merlin!” the king snarled, angry at whoever had placed that thought in his friend’s brain. It did not belong there.

“But I have magic, Arthur!” the dark-haired man argued. “And you’ve told me again and again how evil those who practice magic are!”

“But that’s not you, Merlin!” Arthur challenged. “You are not evil!”

“So I’m just an exception?” he cried, throwing his arms in the air. “I don’t want to be treated differently just because you know me, Arthur. If you would kill any other sorcerer, then I want you to kill me too!”

_No_.

“Hang me! Have the knights cut me down! Behead me! Aim your little crossbows at me and have a go!”

_Never_.

“Hell, drown me! I’m sure if you left me under there for long enough I would die. Or, you know what? Your father would do one better. Your father would-,”

“I AM NOT MY FATHER!” The roar echoed around the throne room, and Arthur was happy that he had dismissed the guards at the door. Light filtered through the windows, playing on Merlin’s face, and those sad, _sad_ eyes stared back at him, bright blue and broken.

Arthur took a step towards his friend, his best friend. “I’m not my father, Merlin.”

The warlock gasped. “I know.”

Another step. “I can’t kill you, Merlin.”

He released a bitter chuckle. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

Another step, but this time Arthur’s voice was different, and he was strangely unashamed at the blatant heartache. “I don’t _want_ to kill you, Merlin. God, I’d never – how can you even _say_ that, after everything. You’re – you’re the closest friend I have, Merlin. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Those eyes, those sad, sad eyes, looked back up at him, and a glimmer of hope shot through them. “I know.”

One more step. “But – but you have to trust me.”

“I do.” Merlin whimpered, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “I _do_ , Arthur, I-,”

“I know.” Arthur smiled, and took the man into his arms. “I know.”

* * *

 

When finally, peace reigned and all was well, and The Once and Future King sat in the courtyard with his Court Sorcerer, the sad eyes stayed.

“You look happy.” Arthur breathed, watching his warlock as he basked in the setting sun.

“I am.” Merlin replied quietly. “I am.”

The surety of his tone, the way his smile was so real and bright, Arthur wondered how he hadn’t figured out that Merlin had magic before. It was so obvious. No one’s smile was that beautiful. “I’m glad.”

“Glad?” he turned to face him, and those blue eyes, so happy and free, met his. “Why are you glad?”

Arthur frowned. “I watched you, for years-,”

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all.”

“And,” he continued, ignoring his idiot. “You – you always seemed so sad. Your eyes- they just…”

“After all I’ve been through,” Merlin sighed heavily. “I got used to playing the part of the cheerful fool. No one suspects you of being a sorcerer when you play the part of the lovable idiot. Because what stupid peasant stays in the shadows, ignores his own good deeds that are taken by others? Why would a sorcerer stoop so low as to make himself a servant, to serve a man who would rather see him dead?”

Arthur placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and the warlock shook his head. “Sorry.”

“No, no.” the king’s jaw hardened, but his tone was gentle. “You don’t have to apologize, Merlin. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, but I do know that – that it was all for me.”

Those eyes, brimmed with tears, were happy.

“Thank you.” Arthur whispered. “For everything.”

“Yeah, well, you’d have died without me, you clotpole.” Merlin breathed affectionately.

“Undoubtedly.” The king chuckled, and there were tears in his eyes too.

Merlin bumped his shoulder, and they returned to gazing at the setting of the sun, the colors making Merlin’s eyes sparkle.


End file.
